Her Last Sacrifice
by AvalonCelticQueen
Summary: Morgana's struggle after the death of Morgause leads her to make a life-changing decision. S4/ep2
1. The Plan

**Her Last Sacrifice**  
>Morgana was broken by her sister's death. She felt empty; unable to think, unable to breathe even, sometimes, without Morgause's presence. The woman who had taught her who she was, helped her finally become who she had always wanted to be. Who had cared for her for so long and, went it came to it, Morgana couldn't even protect. Prophecies appeared to not be the only thing her healing bracelet was powerless against. It couldn't stop memories. The memory of the knife in her hand, the silver gleaming in the moonlight, her hand shaking as she plunged it into Morgause's flesh, and then her last tortured gasp of life. She began to lie awake at night, afraid of her own memory, yet the tears still fell.<p>

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><p>Lord Agravaine burst through the hovel door, a night sky hanging behind him, having come at full speed from Camelot after receiving Morgana's message. His heart was racing, a million and one thoughts racing through his mind. She would never call him unless it was urgent news, maybe a raid? She could be in danger? Yet, he was met with the sight most surprising to him.<p>

'You're leaving, my Lady?' His brow knitted in puzzlement as he knelt by her feet and kissed her ghostly hand gently, before she pulled away and began throwing more items in the bag on the table. 'But why?'

'I will be going away for a week or two at the most.' She was cold; she still had not forgiven him for his failure to sacrifice Arthur to the dorrocha the month before. She felt herself sneer, 'Besides, I cannot be expected to work in this disgusting place all the time.'

'But what about this Emrys you speak of? Won't this put you in danger?' Agravaine took a cautious step towards her, searching her emerald eyes for any signs of forgiveness of his earlier foolishness. 'You need to be careful.'

She gave him a withering look, and he shrank back. 'This Emrys is obviously assisting Arthur some way; he will not be bothered by me taking this trip.'

'I do not even know where you are going, how can I be assured?' He grabbed her arm in a rush of panic, his grip enclosing around the lace netted sleeves, and was met with a terrifying glare, her eyes narrowed hatefully, before lips curved into a wicked smirk.

'I never knew you cared so much, my Lord.' She mocked him, yet her voice was lined with ice as she picked up her bag and, brushing his hand from her, proceeded to leave before stopping. 'I will message you when I return. And I would most like to return to good news; the death of a King would be welcome.'

And she left, her long, black cloak slashing the door behind her, it was long after Agravaine heard the thunder of hooves, he realised Morgana had stolen his horse.

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><p>Arthur laughed at his uncle as he staggered into the Great Hall late that night, his clothes ragged and mud smeared on his ageing face. The Knights turned to stare as, exhausted, Agravaine dragged himself forward. Servants fetched him a carved, wooden chair and he sank into it, thankfully.<p>

'You lost your horse, Lord?' Arthur was practically choking on his wine as he sat in the feast. Around him, very few could contain looks of amusement.

'No, my Lord.' Agravaine said coldly, attempting to shake off the joke. 'I was attacked and my horse stolen. Bandits.'

Arthur stood up in anger, slamming his goblet hard on the wooden surface. 'Well, we must find them. Knights, I want a patrol of the area. Where were you, Uncle?'

Merlin watched carefully as Agravaine looked away quickly before answering, 'The Darkling Woods, my Lord.'

'What were you doing in there, my Lord?' Gaius asked, his eyebrows raised suspiciously, he'd seen Agravaine's guilty look just as Merlin had. And he already had good enough evidence to doubt all that Agravaine said.

'I was hunting this morning, when I was caught off guard.' Agravaine frowned. 'But there's really no need for a patrol, my Lord.'

Arthur shook his head. 'Nonsense, we will find your horse and the culprit will be punished, I promise you.'


	2. The Sacrifice

In reality, the culprit was long gone.

The Lady Morgana had ridden hard, leaving Camelot far behind her in her journey, the Lord Agravaine's horse being not the only sacrifice she was preparing to make on this trip. As she stared at the stone castle in front of her, it took all of her will not to break down where she stood, sobbing on the grass like a peasant, and instead to stride through the empty gateway, as she'd done so many times before. Morgause's castle. Her only home.  
>It was not until she approached the chamber room that she felt the first tear slide down her cheek. The memories were so clear they could almost be happening in front of her. She watched helplessly as the images flashed before her eyes, carrying Morgause's limp figure up the stone tower, placing her on the bed, the relief when she awoke and then the utter despair when she realised she would never recover. She sat down on Morgause's old bed, the sheets unchanged since the last time she was there, and as she lay down, she could still smell her sister, the conflicting mix of perfume and sweat. Just like Morgause's own conflicting personality; her caring, reassuring side, shown only to Morgana, clashing with the determined, seductive, wicked witch that everyone else seemed to see. And nestled in this clash, memories racing through her mind and tears flowing freely, she slept.<p>

She lay in the bed, unmoving for almost two days, drifting in and out of sleep, restless all the time with memories that seemed to be half alive. She woke, completely, on the third with a grim, almost demented, determination. She crossed to her old chamber, connected via an empty archway to Morgause's chamber, created to ease Morgana's nursing of her sister last time they were there, and, with an exasperated gasp, she flung everything from the dusty wardrobe into the fireplace. Then, muttering darkly under her breath, she watched as her old gowns burnt, the emeralds and the scarlets all mingled in the burning heat, becoming a midnight black, and with them went Morgana's past. Her times spent with Arthur as children, her fascination of the jousting, her awe of the King, her father, leaving her with just herself and her sister's memory. She felt the hint of a tear but stood determined, her jaw clenched, she could not regret the loss of those memories, they were false. She wasn't Morgana then, just the royal ward. Only Morgause had made her who she truly was.

She left the castle days later. She'd burnt all her old clothing and belongings, anything that connected her to Camelot, anything that distanced her from Morgause and their life together. She wore Morgause's silver cloak, it was too big for her frame but she no longer cared. In her bag, she'd thrown all Morgause's old clothes, as well as the sheets from her bed. She was beginning to think she was going crazy, but she'd lost all caring for herself. And she needed comforting, now, more than ever.

* * *

><p>The boatman smiled knowingly as he watched the woman approach him. Draped in an overflowing, silver cloak, her ebony hair a mess around her pale face, he nodded as she passed him his fare, the gold shimmering slightly in the moonlight. Motioning to the rocking boat, she climbed in gingerly, her sister not here to assist her this time. He knew her, despite their lack of communication, he knew all about her. And he knew she would return; they all do, in the end.<p>

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><p>Morgana could hear her heart pounding, the heavy beating turning her stomach as she climbed onto the Isle of the Blessed, dismissing the boatman with a half hearted wave. She had more important things to contemplate. The night was still, but the cold stung her face as she crossed the empty courtyard, her destination only steps before her. She felt the cold stone under her fingertips as she finally circled the altar, tears trickling under her closed eyelids as she remembered the metallic clash of silver on the surface, Morgause's sacrifice for her. But now it was her turn.<p>

She climbed on carefully, stone freezing her skin even through the heavy cloak. She was breathing rapidly, a light sweat on her forehead as she pulled her knife from inside the material. It was the same silver blade, dried blood still a glittering contrast to the pale weapon in her shaking palm. With her free hand, she grabbed the trembling wrist, forcing it still. Head spinning, she lay back, resting her head gently against the icy slab. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes, attempting to clear her head, render her fully concentrated. Within minutes, she was ready. Her eyes opened suddenly.

She spoke in a low whisper, her eyes flashing , and she plunged the knife deep into her stomach with a loud groan, her last sight the moonlight glinting off the stained blade.


	3. The Truth

'You did well. Your magic was impeccable. I cannot fault you, sister.'

Morgana's eyes fluttered open at the sound of this voice. It couldn't be...Something was wrong... She was still lying on the cold slab, it was still night. But she'd failed somehow. She attempted to lift herself up, but a sharp stab in her stomach forced her to remain down. A gentle hand caressed her icy cheek.

'Sh, sh, be careful. You're wounded.' The voice was soft, intimate and instantly recognisable, even after the length of time, to Morgana.

She sat up quickly, straining against her body, that seemed to be screaming in agony, and was instantly engulfed in Morgause's embrace.

'This wasn't supposed to happen. I shouldn't be here.' Minutes, maybe hours had passed, but Morgana felt herself break away, shaking her head. 'I shouldn't be here.'

Morgause caressed Morgana's cheek gently before pulling her in again, ignoring the confused light in her sister's pale eyes. 'I missed you, sister.'

Morgana let her tears fall, more freely than she'd ever fully allowed, onto Morgause's bare chest as she gave herself completely to the blonde's embrace. She felt Morgause's tender kisses on her face; her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her lips.

'I don't understand, Morgause.' Morgana leant back and looked up at her sister, studying her for the rest time that night. Her face was unscarred, as beautiful as when they'd first met, those three years ago as she'd rescued Morgana from Uther's grasp, her blonde hair gleaming as gold in the moonlight. 'I've failed. This shouldn't have happened.'

'No, my sister, you were impeccable, your magic was stronger than that of which I've never seen. But you did not count for one thing.' Morgause smiled, holding Morgana's cheek as Morgana nuzzled her hand. 'You never accounted for me.'

'I don't understand.' Morgana's brow knitted in puzzlement, breaking away, causing Morgause to kiss her once more, as if to kiss away the worry painted so clearly on Morgana's face.

'I would never allow you to sacrifice yourself for me. You are so much more precious than I ever was,' Morgause explained softly, the harsh tones of her voice before gone, replaced with the voice she would only ever reserve for the dark featured girl before her.

Morgana felt herself laugh at Morgause's ridiculous suggestion. 'To who? You are the greatest sorceress this World's ever known. You beat Arthur Pendragon in armed combat, challenged the very King of Camelot. Outwitted Cenred and stole his army from under his very nose. I have nothing to boast of.'

'But you, sister, are Morgana Pendragon, the future queen of Camelot, the only one who can bring our enemies to their knees.'

Morgana's eyes darkened and she climbed off the altar, before walking away from her sister's embrace, keeping her back to Morgause, as if to prevent her pained expression from betraying her. 'Please, do not speak of them now...'

'Sister?'

She turned again, her pale cheeks wet with tears. She'd lost her calm, she felt hysteria rising in her voice, her stomach churning. 'The dorrocha failed, Morgause. I failed you. Your sacrifice was for nothing. Nothing.'

To her surprise, she watched Morgause smile gently. She felt Morgause's hand enclose around her own. 'I never thought the dorrocha would succeed, sister, the odds were too slim.' She saw Morgana's face fall, her emerald eyes shimmering. 'I had not long left in your World and I did not want to die by that old man's hand. To die by yours was a comfort to me, the greatest comfort I could have asked for.' She was stroking Morgana's cold hands reassuringly, just as she used to do. 'But now, there is one more thing I must ask from you. For you to take your rightful place on the throne of Camelot.'

Morgana tried to take a deep breath, but she felt as though her lungs were closing up. 'I don't think I can. Not without you.'

Morgause nodded but was stroking the healing bracelet still resting on Morgana's forearm. 'You're never without me though, sister. I could never allow you to sacrifice yourself for me because I live still. I live in your magic and your passion, in your determination and your loyalty, in here.' She kissed Morgana's forehead delicately. 'And here.' She put her hand over Morgana's heart. 'And that means I'm never truly gone. Our enemies will never understand that, never understand us. But I'm always with you, sister, whenever it looks darkest. And when you take your throne, I'll still be at your right hand side, just as I always as. And when it's your time, I will be waiting for you with open arms, I promise you.'

Morgana ignored the tears on her cheeks, and the rapid beating of her heart, and she kissed Morgause deeply, giving herself fully, just as Morgause had done for her in life. After they'd both fully surrendered themselves, and clung tightly to the other's shivering frame, Morgause stood back solemnly.

'I've healed you, sister, you'll feel pain, but you're no longer dying. You need to go back, bide your time. You'll receive a sign of when to begin plotting once more. Find a man named Helios, he'll help you. He can provide the strength to Agravaine's loyalty, the muscle to your power.'

Morgana felt her heart crumbling as she watched her sister's figure fading from view, her form melting into the dark, empty night. She was gone once again, this time for good, no daring rescue attempts this time. The certainty brought another tear to Morgana's eyes but as it fell, it hit the silver bracelet on her arm. She remembered Morgause's fingers on it, her words, once again and, smiling bravely, she felt herself collapse onto the stone altar.

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><p>It was not for weeks later that, as she sat by the fire in her dark hovel, a hand on the knife scar on her stomach, Agravaine burst through the door, panting manically. His hair was wild, but a fire burnt wilder in his dark eyes.<p>

'My Lord?' She asked coldly, eyebrows raised at his sudden entrance.

'It couldn't wait, my Lady.' He sat next to her, attempting to warm his hands. She gave him a quizzical look, as if demanding his news. He coughed before beginning. 'The King has been fatally injured. He's dying, Morgana.'

Eyes wide, and a smirk creeping across her face, she turned to him, and out of the corner of her eye, she could swear she saw Morgause's form hidden in the shadows, a final smile across her face. She'd delivered her sign. She'd delivered her destiny.

**Thank you everyone for reading/ reviews, they are always welcome :)**


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